


play me a lullaby (i’ll sing you to sleep)

by ThisUsernameTaken



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Lullabies, M/M, Piano, Singing, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 00:12:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16006226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisUsernameTaken/pseuds/ThisUsernameTaken
Summary: Sometimes, in the dead of night, Stephen wakes to empty sheets and the haunting melody of heartbreak played quietly over weighted keys.





	play me a lullaby (i’ll sing you to sleep)

Sometimes, in the dead of night, Stephen wakes to empty sheets and the haunting melody of heartbreak played quietly over weighted keys.

_"I never knew you played piano, Tony."_

_His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes as he whirls round to see Stephen looking softly over his shoulder behind him._

_"There's a lot of things you don't know, darling."_

_With that, he gently pulls the cover shut, fingers ghosting a goodbye to unseen memories._

_Tony doesn't play after that for weeks._

Sometimes, when they lie in the dark, Tony talks to him. Tells him things he's told no one, voice wavering but strong.

_"My mother played, once. Before she-. Before they killed her. Sometimes she'd- she would sing. To us. For us. Play a little lullaby in that old empty house."_

_They breathe._

_"Sometimes I can still hear her."_

Sometimes,Tony holds him close and sings them to sleep, lilting soft strains of Italian, slow and sweet. Stephen looks up, once, Tony murmuring his sleep husked lullaby, and the smile he gives him is so affectionate and wistful Stephen has to look down for fear of crying.

Sometimes, when the corridors ring with silence and Tony is well asleep, Stephen tiptoes to the grand old thing, pushing back the cover, and splays fingers in a past echo of song.

_"Doctor Strange?"_

_He startles badly, hands spasming as they jerk away._

_"Mary mother and- Friday, you really must stop doing that."_

_"My apologies, Doctor. I was simply inquiring whether you would like me to disable the audio for the surveillance at this time."_

_Stephen looks sharply to one of the many hidden cameras. How had she seen right through him?_

_After a moment of consideration, he tells her no thank you._

_"Please remember you need only call my name, Doctor, should you need assistance."_

_"I will. Hey, Fri?"_

_"Yes Doctor?"_

_"Could you- could you make sure I don't wake Tony up? He hasn't slept in days."_

_"Consider it done."_

_"Thank you."_

He knows he can't play, knows he can never play. Not like before. Never like before. The mere thought makes his throat thrash somewhere between a sob and a scream.

He knows what he can't do. But he knows what he can.  
Shaky but sure, he trembles a silent lullaby to his beloved slumbering just above, taking great time and care that each note sounded perfectly. He knows it isn't much, but it's all he can do. It would have to be enough.

Sometimes, Tony watches him. Watches Stephen pad down the stairs when he thinks Tony is asleep. Watches him sink onto the bench. Watches him try his damndest, a heartbreaking display of endurance and love lying open on his face.

And every-time Stephen slips away, Tony's chest aches with the overwhelming need to join him, press the lines of their bodies flush as their hands would dance together over the keys.

Everytime Stephen slips away, Tony's mind tells his heart no. So he doesn't. Because he can't. Because were he to breathe the slightest word of it all, Stephens open palm would curl, his face crumpling into that of a stranger, cool and untouchable. And it kills him.

_With a long, elegant finger, Stephen trails the barest of traces over the keys, tapping gently over Tony's own hands, poised mid song._

_"I miss it, sometimes," Stephen murmurs, expression carefully blank._

_Tony stills at the admission, looking up to meet his eyes._

_"I used to play. Before my- the accident. Can't even play a scale now though, can I?" A bitter laugh._

_"I miss it, sometimes," he whispers, leaning down to cup Tony's jaw, hand warm over Tony's own._

_  
"But what's there to miss when I have you?" Stephen murmurs against the corner of Tony's mouth, smiling with so many unsaid things._

Sometimes, in the midst of winter, Stephen wakes to frost flecked windows and broken promises of September.

Sometimes Stephen wakes to Tony crooning him a lullaby.

Sometimes Tony wakes to gentle confessions over white black tile.

And sometime, sometime, they will wake to each other. They will find themselves at that old piano bench, and they will waltz across the keys with words they'll never say.

Sometime. Not yet. But soon.

For now, Stephen tiptoes down the stairs and taps a simple lullaby. For now, Tony lies awake, quietly singing the lyrics he knows by heart.  
For now, they tuck the other close, and sing themselves to sleep.

_"Tony."  
_

_"Mm?"  
_

_"Love you."  
_

_A sleepy smile curves against his collarbone.  
_

_"Too." He mumbles, and Stephen laughs into his hair._

 

**Author's Note:**

> oh God it's too sappy I'm sorry


End file.
